


Chimes at Midnight

by Sarek and Amanda Archive Maintainer (Selek)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: General Kapact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selek/pseuds/Sarek%20and%20Amanda%20Archive%20Maintainer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the height of the Klingon/Federation cold war, Captain Kapact discovers a tragedy for Ambassador Sarek and uncovers an historical conspiracy just as the first fragile overtures for peace between the Federation and the Klingon Empire are taking place.</p><p>Written by Kapact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chimes at Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Historian's Note: This takes place sometime between the events in "Star Trek: The Motion Picture" (hence the "TMP" era in the subject header) and "Star Trek Three: The Search for Spock". At this point, Kapact's father is not long dead, tensions between the Federation and the Klingon Empire are extremely high, and the alliance between the Klingons and the Romulans is on the decline. Border skirmishes between supposedly rogue elements of both empires are frequent, and the Klingon civil war that I mentioned in "Prey" is not far in the future...
> 
>  
> 
> (Author's note: some of you may note a Vulcan name that doesn't fit established patterns. That is because the name was created by someone else, and I didn't think it proper to alter it.)

The Chimes at Midnight

By Kapact

 

Disclaimer: No matter how much Paramount and Viacom abuse and neglect and generally make a bloody mess of Trek, and despite the fact that they seem to have intentionally stuck a knife in it's belly, technically they still own it.

 

Summary: During the height of the Klingon/Federation cold war, Captain Kapact discovers a tragedy for Ambassador Sarek and uncovers an historical conspiracy just as the first fragile overtures for peace between the Federation and the Klingon Empire are taking place.

 

Historian's Note: This takes place sometime between the events in "Star Trek: The Motion Picture" (hence the "TMP" era in the subject header) and "Star Trek Three: The Search for Spock". At this point, Kapact's father is not long dead, tensions between the Federation and the Klingon Empire are extremely high, and the alliance between the Klingons and the Romulans is on the decline. Border skirmishes between supposedly rogue elements of both empires are frequent, and the Klingon civil war that I mentioned in "Prey" is not far in the future...

 

(Author's note: some of you may note a Vulcan name that doesn't fit established patterns. That is because the name was created by someone else, and I didn't think it proper to alter it.)

 

 

In the Lambda Hydrae system, along the Klingon/Romulan border...

 

"They are still pursuing!" Captain Kapact swore at the image of the Romulan 'Snipe' warbird closing behind the K'tinga Class IKV Durango. "Prepare another volley of aft torpedoes!"

 

His executive officer, M'rel looked up from the tactical station. "Torpedoes ready!" His normally bugged eyes seemed even more so.

 

Kapact raised one hand in anticipation. "Fire!" He switched the viewer to aft just as the first torpedo belched from the aft launcher and struck the Snipe's weakened forward shield. There was a flash of green as the shields were momentarily overwhelmed. Then the second torpedo struck, shattering the forward hull. The explosion quickly spread through the small ship, finally catching the atomic weapons store. A white hot explosion followed seconds later.

 

"Glorious." M'rel said it for them all. He turned to the helm officer. "Come about."

 

"Set course for Beta Thoridor." Kapact sat down fully in his chair. That was when the Durango was slammed forward. "Report!"

 

"Two more Snipes have decloaked behind us! They each fired plasma torpedoes at point blank range!" M'rel shouted. Another impact sent a shower of explosions into the face of the tactical.officer. M'rel was there in an instant, shoving the decapitated corpse aside and asessing the damage. "Defensive systems offline. Weapons overloaded. Repairs proceeding."

 

Kapact swore again. "Set course for the sixth planet. It is a gas giant. Maximum warp!"

 

The helm officer set the course, and the Durango leapt into warp with two Snipes on its tail. At the same time, M'rel moved back to speak quietly with Kapact. "Our hull will crack like an eggshell in there."

 

Kapact didn't mind M'rel questioning him out of earshot of the crew, since it would have no effect on discipline. "Shields don't operate inside a gas giant, my friend. Their hulls will crack just as quickly." Then he smiled. "Hopefully quicker."

 

Just a few minutes later, the Durango slipped out of warp and entered a steep orbit of the gas giant. Disruptors and plasma torpedoes flashed behind them as the Romulans dropped out of warp in pursuit. "Maximum impulse!" Kapact shouted. "Take us in!" The Durango quickly dove into the crushing morass of Lambda Hydrae Six.

 

As soon as Kapact felt the difference in the ship; the motion of it through space, the thrumming of the engines beneath the deckplates, and now, the unsettling sound of crushing pressure on the outer hull, he knew they were fully inside the gas giant. A quick evasive move, out of sight or sensor resolution of the Romulans, and the disruptor bolts vanished, and the plasma torpedo dissipated harmlessly. "Come about, one hundred and eighty degrees." Kapact ordered. "Then full stop. All available power to scanners."

 

A beep from the tactical station almost made Kapact jump. "Weapons ready," M'rel muttered.

 

Seconds later, the viewscreen wavered. In the red/orange sea that was the interior of Lambda Hydrae Six, interference threatened to obscure their view. Then a thin, silver shape appeared. "M'rel. Manual target. Fire when ready."

 

Disruptors flashed towards the Romulan, spitting harmlessly to the side at first, but then on target. Once they were on target, M'rel fired two photon torpedoes. The unprotected Romulan hull was shredded, and finally collapsed under the gas giant's immense pressure. Then the second Snipe appeared, firing disruptors as the Durango slipped to the side.

 

Kapact felt the ship shudder as he held on to a support beam. "Damage report."

 

M'rel was already on the comm. "Glancing blow to our port nacelle. No structural damage, but warp capacity is down."

 

"We won't need it in here," Kapact said. "Set course for the far side of the planet. Prepare two antimatter mines." He knew they had to run now. Honor—never running from the enemy, would have to wait. But as the Durango pushed further and further into the gas giant, and the already strained hull of the ship began to creak and groan in protest, Kapact entertained the notion that they might never make it out the other side.

 

Thirty minutes later, the science station exploded. M'rel growled, swore, then reported. "Hull pressure reaching critical. Sensors grids destroyed!"

 

"Helm, maintain course. M'rel, fire two photon torpedoes aft!"

 

"We are blind. I cannot target!"

 

Kapact turned savagely to his friend. "We are being pursued! Fire torpedoes, or stand aside!" There was no time for discussion. He only hoped the Romulan would be close behind them. He hit the comm panel next to him. "Engineering! Deploy combat engineers to the sensor dome." Inside of this gas giant, he knew those engineers would not survive long on the hull.

 

Kapact had spent six months working with combat engineers as part the special command school that Chancellor Lorak had initiated, and he knew what his own engineers would be doing. Suited up in a combat-rated pressure suit, a minimum of six engineers would emerge from an access port near the center of the sensor grid set into the hull. From there, five would move out in equidistant directions, applying tempoary sensor filament as they moved out. After crawling for twenty minutes, they would reach the end of the original net, and apply sealant. Then the engineer in the center would laser-weld the filament to the sensor relay set into the hull. Of course, the more lines of filament applied, the more effective the sensor net. But in the middle of combat, in a gas giant, they would be subject to stray fire from the Romulan, as well as pressure and corrosion from the atmosphere. After fifteen minutes of exposure, the elements would penetrate the suit and set to work on the warrior. So they were sacrificing six warriors to restore minimal sensor ability.

 

During those silent, deadly twenty minutes, Kapact pictured the warriors crawling along the hull, feeling the pressure buffeting at them. It would threaten to push them off the hull at the same time that it gradually crushed their protective suits. There were no shields inside of the gas giant, and nothing that Kapact or his crew could do to watch over or help them. All they could do was wait. But then, with no fanfare, the main viewscreen lit up.

 

"The Romulan!" M'rel cried, pointing at the screen. The thin, silver Snipe warbird was looming in front of them.

 

Kapact reacted instinctively, slapping the 'alpha strike' button built into his command chair. That fired every weapon that was charged and within arc of the current target. There was a flash of disruptors and torpedoes, and the Romulan hull shattered. "How far are we from the other side of the planet?" Kapact asked, after breathing a sigh of relief.

 

M'rel moved quickly to the science station. "Five minutes."

 

"Proceed. Pre—" A proximity alarm interrupted him.

 

"Small craft just ahead," M'rel reported. "Vulcan configuration."

 

"Vulcan?" Kapact's lips curled back. "Military?"

 

"No." M'rel was struggling to scan the ship with jury-rigged sensors and through massive interference. "Civilian craft. It is damaged."

 

"Approach it. Concentrated scan." Kapact had no interest in Vulcan civilian ships, but he hated mysteries.

 

A few minutes later, the graceful shape of a Vulcan civilian craft came into view. Kapact could see points on the forward edge of the hull that seemed to have been hammered in. One of the two warp nacelles was crushed, while the other seemed to be undamaged. The hull had more areas damaged than not. "My lord," M'rel said breathlessly, "one life reading. Very faint."

 

"Beam the craft into the cargo bay." That life reading was important. His heart told him that.

 

A few minutes later, the Durango was approaching the edge of the gas giant. While M'rel commanded the ship, Kapact examined the hull of the Vulcan ship with a science team. "Scan this ship," he ordered. "I want to know what happened to it."

 

His scientists needed only a moment to scan it. "My lord, this ship bears traces of a Federation transporter."

 

"What?" He stared at it, aware that there was a Vulcan clinging to life within it. "Is it safe?" As soon as the scientist nodded to him, he moved to the rear hatch. A quick attempt at the controls yielded no results, so Kapact set at it with a laser. It opened seconds later.

 

He entered the rear of the shuttle and was immediately assaulted with the smell of dead plant-eaters. His tricorder picked up the lifesign an instant later, and he moved quickly past bleeding Vulcans and overloaded circuitry to the forward cabin. There, a young-looking Vulcan male lay, half sprawled in a seat. His chest heaved, and green blood escaped from many wounds. Kapact moved quickly, placing his ear directly over the Vulcan's mouth. There was a heaving, spluttering cough, and one word escaped in a desperate, perhaps dying gasp. "Sarek."

 

 

The Vulcan youth was dead.

 

Kapact knew that the dying words of the alien corpse made for a potentially explosive situation on his ship, and he knew that his position as captain was by no means secure if some ambitious officer had been eavesdropping on him (which happened everywhere on a Klingon in this time of tension and cold war) and saw an opportunity to unseat him. Indeed, he had earned his command by killing his drunken, traitorous commanding officer. So he contacted M'rel from the bloody solitude of the Vulcan craft. "My friend, you will join me in this craft." He paused. "Tell no one."

 

Five minutes later, M'rel entered the craft to find Kapact sitting in the aft section, surrounded by several dead Vulcans. His lips curled back. "Did you kill them?"

 

"What?" Kapact's hand moved of its own accord to his d'k tagh.

 

M'rel laughed loudly. "You have no joy in your heart, son of Ab'Qaff. I was joking. So what is your secret?"

 

Kapact rose. "Follow me." Then he led M'rel to the forward section.

 

When Kapact indicated the body of the Vulcan youth, M'rel glanced at it quickly. "So what? Another dead Vulcan."

 

"His last word was 'Sarek'."

 

"The Vulcan ambassador to the Federation."

 

"Do you remember the stories of Klaang, and the human, Jonathon Archer?" Kapact knew well enough. His grandfather had led the council at the time.

 

M'rel's eyes narrowed, and he indicated the dead Vulcan. "You want to return that to Vulcan."

 

"The Vulcans would have allowed Klaang to die!" It was an old argument that Kapact sometimes maintained for the sake of his family line.

 

"And we would have gone to war."

 

"So what? We fight to enrich our spirit. And that which does not kill us makes us stronger." It was, Kapact admitted, what he was supposed to say, because he was the captain, and because he was of noble blood. But he also believed it.

 

M'rel considered pressing the argument, to bait his friend, but let it go. "I will support you, my brother."

 

Kapact relaxed, finally, and smiled. "It will not be easy. Even our cloak will not get us safely to Vulcan, and the council, such as it is now, will not permit any direct contact with a Federation member." He considered the problem for a moment. "I must contact a friend."

 

 

"Why should we?" Chang seemed dumbfounded by Kapact's request. "You of all people should feel no obligation to help a member of the Federation. Your father—"

 

"—was not killed by Vulcans!" The V'ger incident was still fresh in Kapact's mind. "I have come to you out of respect and friendship!"

 

"As your friend," Chang was clearly surprised at Kapact for reacting angrily to what he saw as common sense, "I am telling you that you owe nothing to the people who killed your father!" He saw Kapact begin to react, and he interrupted him. "If you didn't want to hear the truth, you should have gone somewhere else. Now I'll make it easy for you, Captain. You are ordered to dump the bodies and bring the ship to me."

 

"No." The word came out of Kapact's mouth easily. Then, when it was too late to withdraw it, he felt his breath catch. "More than a hundred years ago, the Vulcans tried to honor us enough to allow Klaang to die with honor. We owe them."

 

"Do you think they'll care? Do you honestly believe it'll make a difference?" Chang's eyes narrowed. "And is it worth throwing away your career? Because that's what it means. You might salvage your family name, but you'll never command again."

 

"I don't care if the Vulcans appreciate it, or if it makes a difference for the Empire," Kapact answered. "I'm not doing it for them. I'm doing it because it's the right thing to do. And if you want a benefit for the Empire, just remember, we'll be doing a favor for the Vulcan ambassador to the Federation."

 

"So what?" Chang asked.

 

"The Vulcan ambassador who is behind a covert peace initiative with certain members of the council." That was Kapact's own bit of eavesdropping. His secret weapon.

 

"Gorkon." Chang's best friend was also his biggest problem. "He wouldn't dare. It's treason."

 

"I didn't say who it was. It could be Melkor."

 

"You're playing a dangerous game, Captain." Chang had always known that Kapact was an excellent tactician. Now he knew just how ruthless the young captain could be.

 

"Will you help me?"

 

Chang pursed his lips and glared. "You tell me who it was, and I'll support you."

 

"I'm sorry, General." Kapact truly regretted telling him. "It's Gorkon."

 

"You've just cost me a friendship, Kapact. I'll have to kill him, before he destroys us all." Then Chang smiled. "But that's for another day. Meet me in the Xol system. I think I know who can help us."

 

 

In the Xol System...

 

Kapact somehow expected Chang's ship, the VodleH (Emperor) Class IKV jaghvo' nob ('Gift from the Enemy') to look different from others, but it was indistinguishable from every other VodleH Class he'd seen. It made sense, though. Chang was a soldier, first and foremost, and he had no patience for the kind of elite, connected, and politically powerful warship commanders that made up the bulk of the defense force. That much was evident even from the "IKV" prefix, that designated it as an Imperial Navy ship, as opposed to the "IKC" that preceeded ships belonging to and ruled by Council members, and the "IKS" ships, privately commanded by elite members of the Admiralty. Chang fought alongside the common soldier, and he always would.

 

"Signal coming in," M'rel reported, breaking Kapact's reverie.

 

Kapact nodded curtly, and the image of the jaghvo' nob vanished to be replaced by Chang's stern face. "Captain Kapact, I'm transmitting coordinates. Beam down alone. I'll expect to see you in five minutes." The signal was cut before Kapact could respond.

 

"You have the bridge." Kapact glanced briefly at M'rel and left the bridge quickly. Chang was angry enough. It wouldn't do to be late.

 

When he materialized on the bleak surface of Xol 3, Chang was waiting for him, with a large chronometer in his hand. "Punctual. Good." Chang replaced the device on his belt. "M'rel will be contacting you shortly. Tell him not to worry."

 

"Why will he—?" Kapact was asking when his communicator chirped angrily. "Report!"

 

"My lord, a Bertaa' Class battlecruiser has decloaked in orbit. It has refused to answer hails."

 

Kapact glanced quickly at Chang, who shook his head sharply. "Do not attempt to contact them again," Kapact ordered. "Maintain communications silence. I'll contact you when I need you again." He closed the communicator.

 

"This shouldn't take too long," Chang said.

 

The sudden appearance of two red transport beams drew their attention. Kapact recognized the Klingon as Kruge, the head of Imperial Intelligence, and rumored to be in line to replace the dead and unlamented Lord Wej'pu as Fleet Lord. The figure next to him, however, was a mystery. A tall, lanky figure cloaked in dark robes, with a large hood shrouding his face in shadow. Without a word, hands reached up to pull the hood back.

 

"A Romulan?" Kapact could not hide his surprise.

 

"I am not a Romulan." The answer came in the stiff monotone that Kapact recognized immediately as Vulcan.

 

Kruge turned his hawk-like gaze to Kapact. "Why do you want to go to Vulcan?"

 

Before Kapact could answer, Chang stepped between them. "Before we go any further, Kruge, you'd better tell me who this is." He turned a distasteful eye to the Vulcan. "This was supposed to be a private matter."

 

Kruge gave Kapact one more lingering glance before answering Chang. "General Chang, meet Marek. The head of Vulcan Intelligence." Marek's eyebrows climbed, but Kruge just slapped him on the back and laughed. "I knew who you were five years ago, Marek. Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me." Then he turned to Chang. "Marek has been working with me to uncover secret peace negotiations between a Vulcan diplomat and the Empire."

 

"An unauthorized initiative," Marek said simply.

 

"Why would a Vulcan oppose peace negotiations?" For Kapact, it was equal parts suspicion and curiosity.

 

"I do not." Marek sounded like a computer. "But the Vulcan government cannot allow unilateral, personal initiatives. What the humans call 'cowboy diplomacy'." His gaze seemed to drill into Kapact. "We suspect Sarek, but we have yet to determine his contact within the Empire."

 

 

USS Tsar Nicholas

Akula Class Destroyer NCC-517

along the Klingon/Federation border...

 

Captain Katarina Romanova watched the blue-green orb of Sherman's Planet slowly rotate on the viewscreen and took pains to keep herself from pacing around the small bridge, but apparently her tension was palpable to K'tan, her Skorr helm officer. Huge wings, normally carefully tucked behind the lieutenant, suddenly unfurled and fluttered noisily. "K'tan!" She almost jumped out of her chair.

 

K'tan turned around, pointing his long, sharp beak at her. "Forgive me, Captain. You're nervous. It's upsetting."

 

"I don't like this any more than you do," she said, "but you need to keep those wings down." Then she smiled. "I'll take you hunting in Siberia on the next shore leave." What she and the crew were losing patience with was an order that had pulled them from a regular patrol of the Triangle Zone to pick up a Vulcan agricultural attache at Sherman's Planet and deliver him to Vulcan ASAP.

 

"Captain," the communications officer, Lt Commander Curran reported, "there is a coded signal from the surface. For your eyes only."

 

"Acknowledge the signal," she said as she rose. "I'll take it in the briefing room." Then she left the bridge via a side exit.

 

The USS Tsar Nicholas's only briefing room was a small room located just off the main bridge that doubled as an office for Captain Romanova. She crossed quickly behind the desk and activated the comm unit. A small monitor lit up, filled with non-sensicle colored pixels. "Romanova Alpha-Seven-Echo. Code Tovaritch." At that, the screen cleared to show Admiral Mpuria. "Hello, Admiral." Romanova had dealt with the african admiral frequently as part of the Neutral Zone task force. "What can I do for you?"

 

"Captain, the gentlemen you're here to pick up will require special handling."

 

"Gentlemen? Admiral, I understood that I was to pick up the Vulcan agricultural attache."

 

"Not exactly. There are two people beaming up. Before you beam them up, you are to clear all personnel on all decks between the transporter room and their guest quarters. You are not to engage them in conversation, nor are they to be seen by any members of your crew."

 

Romanova tried to sound nonplussed. "Anything else?"

 

Mpuria smiled. "As a matter of fact there is. There is to be no record of this conversation. No visual logs of any kind will be recorded of your guests, and for the duration of their stay outside communication is to be restricted."

 

Romanova pursed her lips in a fashion that could break hearts if properly applied. "If my ship and crew is to be endangered, I want to know who it is."

 

Mpuria smiled a broad, white smile. "You'll know, when you see them. But this has to be kept secret, Katarina. Potentially millions of lives are at stake."

 

She smiled at that. As part of the Federation's first line of defense from the Klingons and the Romulans, she was used to being on the edge of intergalactic brinkmanship. "That we do every day before lunch."

 

She was alone in the transporter room ten minutes later. Commander Shran, a descendant of the Andorian Imperial Guard commander that assisted the Humans over one hundred years ago, had the bridge, and the crew had been restricted as per orders. She had even found two available and adjoining VIP quarters fairly close to the transporter room. "Transport control, this is Captain Romanova. Standing by to energize."

 

"We will conduct the transport, Captain. Please open your system, and stand by."

 

Romanova raised an aristocratic eyebrow and opened up the transporter system. "Go ahead." It made perfect sense to her. No coordinates to give away. No permanent transport records. When, seconds later, two people materialized a few feet in front of her, she gasped, and her mouth hung open. Despite orders not to engage them in conversation, she spoke without thinking. "Sarek. Gorkon."

 

Sarek leveled a stern gaze at her, and Gorkon looked vulnerable. They both looked expectant.

 

Finally, she found her command voice and forged ahead. "Forgive me, gentlemen. If you'll please follow me to your quarters." She gestured toward the door. "I've cleared the deck for you." She saw Sarek nod to Gorkon and lead him off of the platform, and the two followed her to the door.

 

The empty corridor made Romanova uneasy. This was her home. Her family. It was normally bustling with activity, and she didn't like anything that disrupted that. But it had happened, and like any good Russian girl, she would push through it. A moment later, she was opening the door to Sarek's quarters. After allowing the two to enter, she followed them in. She moved quickly to the adjoining door. She opened that door and waved them through. Then she produced a communicator. "If you wish to contact me, this is preset to a private, scrambled frequency that only goes to me. It is untracable, and cannot be detected outside of the ship. Otherwise, I won't contact you until we reach Vulcan."

 

Both men looked at her severely. Gorkon spoke in a surprisingly cultured voice. "Thank you, Captain."

 

"You will leave us now," Sarek said.

 

When Romanova had gone, Gorkon spoke first. "This is dangerous."

 

"It is necessary and logical," Sarek answered. "My brother is missing. I must see to family affairs immediately, and we cannot afford to cease our efforts while I am gone. Logic dictates that you accompany me. In any case, you cannot wait for me on Sherman's Planet."

 

 

 

On board Kruge's Bertaa', Kapact waited uneasily in a briefing room as the sounds of Chang and Kruge arguing in a side office permeated the bulkheads. Marek, who was seated opposite Kapact at the table, raised one eyebrow in distaste. "Tell me, before they return, why you want to go to Vulcan."

 

"As a matter of honor," Kapact said simply.

 

"Klingon honor is something often noted in the breach, rather than the observance. It is not something upon which to place blind trust." He seemed to be trying to assess Kapact. "So I ask you again. Why Vulcan?"

 

Kapact knew he would have to say it eventually, and he didn't want Kruge to hear it. "I found a Vulcan ship where it shouldn't have been." Then he explained, in exacting detail, the circumstances under which he'd discovered the Vulcan civilian craft, and the traces of a Federation transporter signature.

 

Marek looked as shocked as a Vulcan could. "Why would a Klingon warrior of noble descent care about a Vulcan corpse? Did your ancestor Sompek worry about the innocent children of Tong'Ve?"

 

"Sompek was a hero!" Kapact snarled. "He was killing a city of traitors and avenging his murdered mate." Kapact knew the story well. "But this has nothing to do with Sompek. It has to do with Klaang, and Jonathon Archer."

 

"Jonathon Archer is widely regarded as a hero. Returning Klaang to Qo'noS prevented a Klingon civil war."

 

"And dishonored Klaang and my grandfather." Kapact was tired of the argument. "These Vulcans died far from home. One of them mentioned Sarek. I just want to take them home."

 

"And you have no desire to spy while you are there?"

 

"If I wanted to spy on you, I wouldn't be talking to you. Klingons are not that subtle."

 

"Perhaps." Marek seemed to dismiss Kapact and his arguments. "In any case, you will not be allowed to go to Vulcan."

 

"What?" That was when Kruge and Chang returned. Kapact saw that Kruge was furious, with a deep cut over one eye. Chang looked exerted, but satisfied. But Kapact didn't care what had happened. "We're wasting our time!" he shouted as he rose. "I should have known better than to talk to a Vulcan!" Then he pulled out his communicator. "M'rel. Energize!"

 

Ten minutes later, Chang and Kruge had followed Kapact onto the Durango. They met with him in his quarters. "Forget about Marek," Chang was saying. "There's another way. But your trip to Vulcan is going to be an expensive one. I hope it's worth it."

 

Kruge didn't seem to be paying attention. He picked up and carelessly put down Kapact's statue of Kahless, "I wouldn't take you for a cultist, Kapact. Do you really believe that he climbed a volcano, and forged the first bat'leth with a lock of his own hair?" He picked up the statue of The Two Brothers (Kahless and Morath) Fighting. "Or that he fought Morath for twelve days and twelve nights over a lie?"

 

Kapact tore the statue from Kruge's grasp and set it carefully where it belonged. "I don't have to believe in him anymore than I have to believe in the ground, or the stars or the air we breath. It is there. We would not exist otherwise. Do you believe we would have survived this long without killing ourselves without a hero such as Kahless? You are the cultist. The fool."

 

"Careful," Chang warned him quietly.

 

"It doesn't matter," Kruge answered. "I can tell you, though. Your father wouldn't have approved." He reached up to touch the blood above his eye. It was still wet. "General Chang convinced me of the need to use... unconventional means to get you and your cargo to Vulcan. But it's going to cost you."

 

"Cost me what?"

 

"Your name," Kruge answered. "Your career. You'll still have your honor, by your skewed definition. What else matters?"

 

Kapact's d'k tagh flew into his hands, and he saw it clawing into Kruge's belly. Sheer force of will stopped him from doing it. Kruge was too important, and too dangerous to be killed outright. "What unconventional means?" He truly felt he was making a deal with the devil. And much as it went against his instincts, he put the d'k tagh away.

 

 

USS Tsar Nicholas

Akula Class Destroyer NCC-517

Undisclosed location in Federation space...

 

 

Captain Katarina Romanova stood quietly on the bridge while First Officer Shran and Lieutenant K'tan watched their course. They knew the ship was bound for Vulcan, and the deafening silence from the 'agricultural attache' had set their imaginations to work. Her own attention had been drawn to the dedication plaque, with its enigmatic motto. "...Trust, But Verify..." Simple and seemingly contradictory, the words aptly described the ship's mission, and added an ironic counterpoint to the secret presence of Ambassador Sarek and the Klingon High Council member Gorkon. She could guess that there were negotiations afoot, but they seemed to be unofficial. That would have all made sense on Sherman's Planet, which had become an unofficial meeting place for Klingon and Federation personnel. But why they should be going to Vulcan, very nearly the heart of the Federation, was incomprehensible, unless they were on the verge of a breakthrough. And that led to her very strong feeling that somebody was watching them. Whether that somebody was friend or foe was unclear. So she wasn't surprised by the first hint of a shadow.

 

"Captain?" Lt Commander Solaia, the Deltan science officer sounded unusually concerned.

 

Romanova stepped quickly to the science station, pushing through, at the same time, waves of attraction and sensuality that the Deltan man naturally exuded. "What is it?"

 

"A tachyon shift at the edge of sensor range. We were skirting the edge of Son'a space, and the nearby nebula can give off those readings."

 

"But?"

 

"It disappeared when I directed a scan at it. It disappeared abruptly, like someone flipping a switch."

 

Romanova thought about it quickly, considering and dismissing several options. "Keep an eye on it, Solaia. Extend scanning range and sensitivity however you have to, and keep me abreast of any more strange readings." At that point she was tempted to advise Sarek and Gorkon, but she decided not to. Not only had she been ordered to leave them alone, she'd also been advised by Admiral Mpuria to pretend they weren't there, and Captain Romanova would take an advisement over an order any day. And anyway, it could be a coincidence.

 

Six hours later, Solaia called her back to the science station. "Something new, Captain."

 

She was there almost instantly. "What is it?"

 

"Something more definite," he said as he looked up from the hooded viewer. "Have a look."

 

She bent down to gaze into the viewer and saw a representation of scanning waves being directed from the ship in all directions. There seemed to be nothing unusual. "So what?"

 

She felt his breath, hot on her neck... or so it seemed. In fact, it probably wasn't. "Now watch this."

 

Suddenly the beams doubled in length and intensity, and something, like a washback of interference was visible over all edges of the screen for an instant, before vanishing again. "What the hell is it?" she asked as she looked up at Solaia.

 

"Somebody following us and watching us."

 

Romanova swore in Russian. "Right. K'tan, all stop. Commander Curran, open hailing frequencies. All frequency. Wide beam transmission."

 

"Go ahead."

 

"This is Captain Katarina Romanova of the Federation starship Tsar Nicholas. I am aware that you are monitoring our progress. You will identify yourself. Failure to do so immediately may result in hostile action. Respond."

 

The first noise didn't come from the speakers. It came from the communicator she'd coded to the one she'd given Sarek and Gorkon. But there wasn't time to answer them. Then the viewscreen flickered, and for the second time in the last few days, her jaw dropped open in shock. A Vulcan Starcruiser of a design not seen in more than a hundred years decloaked just ahead of them.

 

 

Four Years Ago...

 

Captain Edward Forrester, of the Federation Class USS Horatio Hornblower watched with horror as six small ships materialized close to the first one that had appeared over Delta Vega. The mothership was easily twice the size of his own dreadnaught, and he could well imagine all six of the smaller ships fitting inside, with room to spare. But how they could have simply materialized was beyond his imagination. You couldn't transport an entire ship...

 

Two days later, the USS Sidney Reilly was flying through a debris field that had once been the Horatio Hornblower. The captain, who wore a black jumpsuit instead of the standard starfleet uniform, spoke urgently into a secure comm channel. "The device... a portal of some kind, as far as we can tell, is intact, and protected by a shield that absorbs and is powered by every bit of phaser energy we throw at it. All that's left of the Hornblower is debris and background radiation."

 

"I don't want even that left when you're finished. Transport the debris aboard. All of it, Captain. Then use metryon sweeps to clear out the radiation."

 

"Yes, Mister Sloane."

 

 

The subsequent investigation of the wreckage, as well as log tapes from a convoy that encountered and managed to communicate with the invader a day later led to startling information. That information was disseminated to an unlikely group in an underground bunker on Sherman's Planet.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen and... others," Sloane fixed a hard glance at the Tholian representative, sitting awkwardly in its box-shaped environmental suit, "welcome to Sherman's Planet."

 

"What are they doing here?" Kruge was looking at representatives of the Tholian, Romulan, and Gorn intelligence agencies.

 

"We're all here because of a threat from outside of our galaxy. A threat that none of us can face on our own." He thought about the secrets he was about to share. "And information I would rather keep a secret between us." Sloan then produced several pieces of paper. "What you have in front of you represents a war that we need to fight without our governments finding out."

 

That paper document contained the following tactical assessment:

 

The invading ships are from the Andromeda Galaxy. They appeared in a portal just over the mining colony Delta Vega. Despite initial assumptions, they are not Kelvans. Whether or not they conquered the Kelvans is unclear, although it is possible. Andromedan "motherships" carry smaller (destroyer size and smaller) "satellite ships" inside of "hangar bays". Their ships do not have shields, instead, they have "Power Absorber Panels" which absorb damage and convert it to energy that they then use to supplement their own power supply. Their heavy weapon is the "Tractor-Replusor Beam"; a weapon that grabs a ship and rapidly tractors and repels it, literally shaking the target to pieces. The Andromedans also posses the "Displacement Device", which allows them to teleport their own ships or enemy ships.

 

Sloane waited until they'd all read it, then he continued. "The threat we face is two-fold. The obvious danger of being conquered by the Andromedans, firstly. This isn't just a threat to the Federation. It's a threat to all of us. Secondly, the kind of technology wielded by the enemy cannot be allowed to enter the general inventory of any of our governments. The result would be a galactic war. What we need to do is keep this war a secret."

 

"Nonsense," the female head of the Tal Shiar said. "How can you wage a secret war?"

 

Kruge laughed derisively. "That's how you fight them, isn't it? Why send a fleet when you can assassinate an ambassador?"

 

"I think we all understand each other," Sloane interjected. "And I think we also understand that each of us has access to—how shall we say—privately funded fleets. And as for keeping it secret, my own planet's Eugenics Wars were fought during the last years of the twentieth century, and partly thanks to an ancestor of mine, the general populace had no idea at the time. If we cooperate, this war can be just as secret."

 

"And what if someone finds out?" the Tholian asked through a translation device.

 

"We've already sacrificed ships to keep this secret," Sloane answered. "We can't be afraid to sacrifice more."

 

"Kill anyone who finds out," Kruge commented. "That's what he means." The big Klingon looked around suddenly, and his nostrils flared. "I smell a plant-eater. What are the Vulcans doing here?"

 

Marek immediately stepped out from behind a curtain. "Because we have an interest in keeping the peace. And we have assets to contribute."

 

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Seconds after it decloaked, the massive Vulcan Starcruiser fired photon torpedoes at the Tsar Nicholas. "What the hell?" Captain Romanova swore. "Ship to ship!"

 

Lt Commander Curran tried again. "Still no response."

 

"I'd say," Commander Shran said as he took his seat, "that we've seen their response."

 

Romanova curled her lip in distaste at Shran's comment. The CMO, Doctor Gabriella Scratiatella had determined that the Andorian, like so many of his species, seemed to have a hyperactive sarcasm gland. The captain agreed, but valued Shran enough as an XO to put up with it.

 

"Spasiba. I don't care what kind of ship it is. They can't do that." She turned to the helm officer. "K'tan, attack pattern omega. Target shield generators." She moved behind him, resisting the urge to put her hand on his muscled shoulder. She wanted to be where he was, protecting first-hand her ship and crew.

 

But suddenly she knew something had happened. She felt sick to her stomach, like she had the first time she'd been through a transporter. K'tan's wings had spread to their full two meter wingspan, and the Skorr screeched what she knew to be a war cry. "Hold it," Romanova ordered. "Solaia, report."

 

"Captain, we're not where we're supposed to be. Neither is the Vulcan. We—" he paused to double check his readings. "Captain, we've just been transported five hundred thousand kilometers."

 

"Transported? That's impossible!"

 

"Confirmed," Solaia replied. "I'm reading matter stream residue along the path from our previous position, and a scan of our hull shows a Federation transport signature."

 

"Explanation?"

 

"Captain," Shran whispered, "the Vulcans..."

 

She swore in Russian yet again. "Intercept course. Full impulse. Lock all weapons." Then she turned to Curran. "Open a secure channel to Admiral Mpuria. Someone has to know this happened."

 

"Aye, Captain."

 

An instant later, Mpuria appeared on the screen. "What is it, Katarina?"

 

"I'm sending you sensor logs, Admiral. Someone is trying to stop me from delivering my passengers."

 

"Received, Captain. Your passengers have to make it through. Whatever it takes. I'll try to send help." Mpuria cut the channel abruptly.

 

"Okay." Romanova huffed. "Set a course away from the Vulcan. Maximum warp." Then she tapped the comm switch on the arm her chair. "Engineering. Respond, Mister Norman."

 

"Aye, Captain?" Norman's voice was as calm as always.

 

"Emergency warp, Mister. Until I say stop." She cut the channel. "Go, K'tan. Maximum warp." As the ship leaped forward, the private communications channel that would Sarek beeped again. "Not now!" Then she was thrown to the deck as the Starcruiser materialized in their path. The Tsar Nicholas slammed to starboard as K'tan wrenched at the controls. She could hear and feel the hull groaning and pitching underneath her, and she was thrown forward. K'tan stretched one wing to try to stop her, but she slid past him, finally slamming into the viewscreen.

 

With a supreme effort, Katarina Romanova stood, bracing herself against the helm station. "Evasive course. We need to get away."

 

"Captain," Shran pleaded. "We can destroy them."

 

"We have our orders, Commander. Do you understand?" She could, when she had to, use an iron fist on anyone who needed it. "If you can't, you're off my ship!"

 

"Acknowledged," Shran answered reluctantly.

 

"Good. K'tan, get us out of here." She realized, with a deep gasp, that she'd stopped breathing. The Tsar Nicholas swerved away from the looming Starcruiser and began to weave drunkenly away.

 

Then it was grabbed again. Romanova was thrown backwards, finally crashing awkwardly into her command chair. "What was that?"

 

"Tractor-repulsor beam," Solaia replied. "They've got us, and they're shaking us apart!"

 

She decided that they were doomed now. She wanted to somehow get to Sarek and Gorkon, but she couldn't leave the bridge, and noone else could be trusted to even see them. No one. So all she could do now was to destroy the Vulcan and hope Mpuria could stop the war that she felt certain she was starting. Deep, sad thoughts flew through her head. Her husband, Vladimir Markovich on the USS John F Kennedy... and Sarek. Did he have a wife? Did Gorkon? Would they know what had happened? Would they someday learn to hate her name? Those thoughts came and went in a second. Then she gave the order. "Intercept course. Warp speed on my mark." She took a deep breath. "Three." Shran's antennae were fully forward with excitement. "Two." K'tan's wings fully extended, and she didn't say a word this time. Her mouth opened to finish the countdown, but suddenly the viewscreen was full of... a Romulan Bird of Prey. Similar to the old Snipe that had almost started a war by destroying Earth outposts along the nuetral zone, only larger, sleeker, and more menacing. It turned smartly on one wing and stopped the Starcruiser with a plasma torpedo.

 

For the third time in less than a week, her mouth hung open stupidly. "Contact the Romulan."

 

"They aren't answering hails."

 

She stifled another curse, and considered turning tail and leaving the area while she could. Mpuria would tell her to do just that. But she wasn't about to run from a fight that someone—even a Romulan—had pulled her out of. Common sense and orders weren't always the right choice. "Plot a circular course, K'tan. I want to end up behind that Vulcan."

 

 

Kapact had one hand around Kruge's neck, and the other holding a disruptor shoved between Kruge's teeth.

 

"I'll destroy you," Kruge managed to say.

 

"He will," Chang agreed. "Even if you manage to kill him, someone will show up one day, and slip a qut'luch between your ribs."

 

Kapact gritted his teeth and considered what he'd heard. He was willing to die to get the Vulcans home... but he still had a mother who had much to lose with a dead and dishonored son. And he had no son to continue the Abukoff line. So he finally dropped Kruge to the deck. "You have no honor, and no more secrets." He pushed past startled officers to the comm panel.

 

"Don't be a fool." The words came simultaneously from Chang and Kruge.

 

He barely glanced at them as he opened a channel. "Federation starship, this is Captain Kapact."

 

 

Romanova couldn't believe her ears. "What are you doing in a Romulan ship this deep in Federation space?"

 

"I need to speak to you, Captain. In private."

 

Romanova moved forward to stand directly in front of the viewscreen. "In case you hadn't noticed, there's a Vulcan ship out there that poses a threat to both of us."

 

"Prepare to merge transmissions," Kapact said.

 

Seconds later, another image appeared on the screen, next to Kapact. This was of a tall, thin man in a black jumpsuit.

 

"Mister Sloane!" Romanova knew him from regular Intel lectures at Starfleet Command. "What the hell are you doing here? I'd heard you died. Some kind of transporter accident."

 

"That was my father," Sloane answered calmly. "A tragic accident. Much the same that's going to happen to you and Captain Kapact momentarily. But first I need you to turn over Ambassador Sarek and Gorkon."

 

"Sarek?" Kapact asked.

 

"Gorkon?" Chang added.

 

"Didn't you know?" Sloane asked. "They're conspiring against both the Federation and the Empire."

 

"I know your secrets, Sloane," Kapact countered. "All of them. Every bit of intelligence on the Andromedans."

 

Kruge chose that moment to spit a mouthful of broken and bloody teeth at Kapact. "You're finished. Dead."

 

"Maybe. But the secret war is no longer secret." Pushing another button, Kapact transmitted an audio recording of the confession he'd beaten out of Kruge. It detailed everything from the discovery of the portal, to initial battles using secret fleets from every major race's intelligence agency, and finally to a battle less than six months ago that saw the unlikely allies destroying the main Andromedan base of operations located in the Lesser Magellanic Cloud. Kapact finally explained that the stolen Romulan ship they were in had been fitted, as had the Vulcan Starcruiser, with every bit of Andromedan technology they had.

 

"Close," Sloane said. "But not quite." The Starcruiser vanished.

 

"He's cloaked," Romanova said.

 

"Not just cloaked," Kruge explained. "Phase cloaked. You'll never find him now."

 

Kapact glared at Kruge briefly, then turned to Romanova. "Captain, I need to speak with Sarek."

 

"I can't allow it," she answered. "His presence here—"

 

"—is no longer a secret," Kapact argued. "Give him a message for me. If he refuses to see me, I'll leave in peace."

 

"Just a minute." She sent the signal to her office, and left the bridge. Once she was in the office, she continued. "What is your message?"

 

"Tell him I found a Vulcan civilian craft that had been transported inside a gas giant in the Lambda Hydrae system. I suspect it was accidentally caught in a covert experiment of an Andromedan displacement device. Inside of the craft, a dying Vulcan's last word was 'Sarek'. I am bringing the bodies home." Kapact felt that he was being relieved of a great burden, but also that he was taking a terrible risk. Until now, he had trusted the bodies to no one. Now he was trusting a human.

 

This made everything else Romanova had heard sound boring. "Wait. I'll contact him."

 

 

A full hour passed before Kapact had the remains of the Vulcan ship, as well as the stasis-held bodies before him in the cargo bay of the Tsar Nicholas. Sarek was with him, staring at the battered ship and the small chambers alongside of it. The Vulcan was silent.

 

"Ambassador, I don't care for politics, and I do not trust politicians. My family has always appreciated the Vulcans, even if we do not fully understand them. But I owed you this."

 

"That is illogical. You cannot 'owe me' anything."

 

"The Vulcans respected the Empire when Klaang was dying on Earth. They understood why it was better to let him die than return him weak and in disgrace."

 

"That does not infer a debt." Sarek seemed to be trying to understand the passionate young Klingon.

 

"It was the right thing to do." Kapact couldn't expain it better than that.

 

"Despite the cost to you?" When Kapact nodded, Sarek moved to examine the stasis boxes, and the covered bodies within. "My brother Silek, and his family."

 

 

On board Kruge's Bertaa', orbiting Qo'noS...

 

"I told you it would cost you," Chang muttered glumly. "Where are your friends now, hm? Where is Sarek? Off somewhere conspiring with Gorkon to dismantle our Empire no doubt." But he was also waiting with Kapact for the punishment. Chang had known him for years, since Kapact had been a young lieutenant in the early days of the General War against the Federation and the Hydran Kingdom. In that time, he had found Kapact to be impulsive and bull-headed to a fault, but also as loyal and dedicated a warrior as he had ever met. Someone to have at his side should things come to a head. "Don't count on me to save you. I've got things to do on a larger scale that I can't accomplish without a high position."

 

"I'n not the only one who needs to be saved," Kapact answered. "Do you realize what will become of the Empire if these Morath followers retain control? We're doomed. Eventually we'll be conquered by the humans. Or worse, we'll be—"

 

"Assimilated by them," Chang finished for him. "Don't you think I know that? If Gorkon, who sits very high on the council can be fool enough to negotiate with them, what's to stop the slide?" Chang was listening to Kapact, but thinking along a different track altogether. "Who will stand in their way? I needed you, Kapact. Together we could have challenged them. Now that's over with." Chang suddenly seemed very old. "If I can't stop Gorkon politically, I'll have to kill him. And for all of his foolishness, he's a good man. And he's my best friend."

 

"We aren't going to save ourselves by killing good men, General." Kapact, as always, didn't understand a political agenda that was served by killing good men. "We need to rid ourselves of those who deny our very foundation. Then we decide which direction to follow."

 

"That's an excuse for not taking action." Chang rose menacingly. "What do you know about making hard decisions? You've led a privileged life, son of Ab'Qaff. Royal blood flows through your veins." Furious at Kapact for seemingly not understanding, Chang was hurling insults like stones. "How old were you before you got your hands dirty, or shed blood? How many good warriors have you sacrificed for a good cause? Any? I doubt it. Otherwise you'd know what sacrifice means! You'd understand what it means to have to kill your best-!"

 

"Kill him if you want," Kruge said as he walked into the briefing room. "You'll be saving me the work."

 

Chang sat, favoring Kapact with a soft expression. "Whatever dispute we have is none of your concern."

 

"You're right." Kruge dismissed Chang. "Kapact is guilty of treason, and you're guilty too."

 

"What?" Kapact and Chang rose and asked in unison.

 

"You conspired with the traitor to expose state secrets." Kruge raised his bushy eyebrows and smiled broadly. "And as leading members of a seditious cult, you represent a clear danger to the Empire."

 

"Chang never conspired to do anything," Kapact rumbled. "You can't possibly believe that."

 

"It doesn't matter what I believe. Marek tells me that Gorkon has returned to Council without an agreement, so that isn't a problem anymore. And that means I don't need you, Chang."

 

"You can't do that," Kapact said.

 

"I just did." Kruge seemed unconcerned as he looked at Chang. "Your names will be disgraced, your houses dissolved and your holdings seized. And then I'll round up the rest of the cultists."

 

"No." The silent Klingon transporter hadn't given any warning that two people had materialized behind them. Gorkon was the first to speak. "The council has examined the intelligence reports on the Andromedan war, and has decided that the charges of conspiracy are unfounded."

 

"But—?" Kruge was furious and dumbfounded.

 

"It is you who conspired to fight an unsanctioned war and share technology with the enemies of the Empire. Your House will be subject to intense scrutiny." Gorkon sounded quietly enraged. "There remains the question of Kapact's covert mechanations to reach Vulcan."

 

"I did it for a reason," Kapact objected.

 

"No doubt. But you ignored the chain of command, and conspired to violate interstellar law."

 

Sarek spoke up at that point. "I petitioned the Federation council for retroactive sanction, to no avail."

 

"I have, however," Gorkon added, "successfully lobbied the council to keep you off of Rura Penthe, and to retain your command." He gave Kruge a hard look. "There remains only your—"

 

"That's outrageous!" Kruge shouted as he rose. "He's a traitor and a cultist!"

 

"And you conspired with him of your own free will," Chang answered. "If he's guilty, so are you." Kapact noted, with disappointment, that Chang had distanced himself from the crime.

 

Then the door opened, and the last surprise was there. "Mother?" Kapact rose.

 

ValkrIS glanced quickly at Kapact, communicating love and hurt and support in an instant. "Commander Kruge, you've wanted me to work for you since before Ab'Qaff was killed. You have influence on the council. You can spare his name and career."

 

"ValkrIS, you overestimate yourself," Kruge commented as he moved to her. "But you are magnificent." He gazed at her with undisquised lust. “We would be fantastic together. And think of how the Kruge genes could improve on that.” He sneered at Kapact.

 

At that, Kapact finally lost his temper. He withdrew his d'k tagh and hit Kruge across the face with it's pommel. "Defend yourself!"

 

It was ValkrIS who pulled her son away. "Kapact, I won't let you destroy yourself defending me. My life ended when my husband was killed. Our house is now yours. Care for it well, or I'll take it back." With that, she stood next to Kruge. "The matter is dropped?"

 

"The matter is dropped," he answered her almost tenderly. Then he cast a deadly gaze at Kapact. "Stay out of trouble, boy." He took ValkrIS by the arm and led her from the room.

 

"She just saved your life, you know," Chang said quietly. "All it cost her was her own." Then he looked at Gorkon. "This business between us isn't finished. You're the real conspirator." With that, he whipped out a communicator. Seconds later, he vanished in a red, swirling transporter beam.

 

Finally, Kapact was left alone with Sarek and Gorkon. He addressed Gorkon first. "I told Chang what you were doing. I'm sorry. I have no grudge against you, but I needed his help."

 

"Let us hope that what you achieved is worth what it may cost us." Gorkon sounded philosophical, but the anger and regret was obvious in his voice. "I dare say I've lost a friend."

 

"What Captain Kapact has demonstrated," Sarek commented, "is that friends and enemies are not always what they seem, and do not always fit our preconceptions. It will be necessary for me to cease negotiations with you, Gorkon. But since logic demands that we work for peace, I will direct my son to contact you. He is a capable diplomat."

 

"The chimes at midnight," Gorkon muttered to himself. When he saw Kapact give him a puzzled look, he explained. "Changes, Captain. Changes."

 

 

 

Epilogue

 

 

"Where are they? Where are my sensor logs?" Romanova was furious.

 

"They're being studied," Mpuria answered calmly.

 

"Where? By whom? We were almost destroyed. Sarek and Gorkon almost killed. What if the Klingons decide to use the technology?" She knew she was firing questions faster than he could answer, but she didn't care. "How am I supposed to defend against it if I can't—"

 

"The data is being given our fullest attention, somewhere very, very safe." His smooth voice drowned out her objections.

 

 

At that instant, an unmanned freighter carrying sensor logs and remains of a Vulcan civilian ship was completing it's final voyage, being gradually drawn into a black hole in a distant frontier of Federation space.

 

Ballad of House Abukoff:

Yet if my line should die,  
it dies with its teeth in the enemy's throat,  
it dies with its name on the enemy's tongue.

For just as mere life is not victory,  
mere death is not defeat;  
And in the next world I shall kill the foe a thousand times,  
laughing,  
undefeated.

(from John Ford's "The Final Reflection")


End file.
